


Steve Rogers and the Great Body Hair Crisis of 2015

by glitteratiglue



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Body Hair, Body Worship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Self Confidence Issues, Shaving, repeated cryostasis apparently affects body hair growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5592061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re the one with the perfect hairless body and the dick straight out of gay porn,” Steve protests. “I’m just saying, it can make a guy a little self-conscious.”</p><p>“Watched a lot of that, did you?” Bucky’s face screws up, like he’s trying not to laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve Rogers and the Great Body Hair Crisis of 2015

**Author's Note:**

> The entire fic is literally Steve having a crisis about his pubes. I’m sorry.

Steve's a big fan of being naked, especially when it involves Bucky.

And it’s not just because of all the numerous things they can do when they’re naked (after finally giving in to the attraction that’s been between them since about 1937, they’ve been steadily working their way through a whole bunch of naked activities).

He can spend hours exploring Bucky’s naked body with hands and mouth (and he often does). But sometimes, cuddling with no clothes on can be just as good, as far as Steve’s concerned. They’ve both spent so long touch-starved that they can spend ages tangled up together in their California king bed, snuggled up in the sheets for lazy kisses and reverent touches.

So, yeah: nakedness is about the best thing in the world, Steve thinks.

Bucky rolls over in bed and yawns. “Morning,” he says, voice scratchy.

Steve stirs and smiles, reaching for Bucky. “Mm, it’s not. Don’t wanna get up yet.”

He gets Bucky into the warm circle of his arms, noses at the back of his neck and breathes in his scent: sweat and the detergent they use on their sheets. There's a sigh from Bucky, and Steve feels his dick start to wake up along with the rest of him. Maybe they can —

The alarm goes off.

“Damn it,” Bucky murmurs, but he’s straight out of bed (he’s always been a morning person, plus years of cryo have left him with permanent insomnia, so he has no trouble waking up).

“Briefing with Fury,” Steve says, with chagrin; he’d forgotten all about it, and was hoping to coax Bucky into staying in bed with him for the rest of the morning. With all the alien attacks New York has thwarted recently, the Avengers are coming together to talk strategy, and that unfortunately means Bucky and Steve are required to attend.

He swings his legs off the bed and watches Bucky rifling through the closet, his eyes drawn to the firm curve of Bucky’s ass.

“Whatcha lookin’at?” Bucky says, with a lewd smile.

“You,” Steve says simply.

“Sap,” Bucky mutters, but he’s still smiling as he turns back to his clothes.

Steve stares as Bucky steps into his boxers, unable to resist watching the graceful way he moves, muscles uncoiling like a big cat.

As he looks, a sudden thought strikes Steve: there isn’t a single hair on Bucky’s body below his face. He’s never paid much notice to it before, but as a weird side-effect of constantly being frozen and defrosted, Bucky is lacking all body hair except the stubble on his chin and the straggly dark locks on his head.

At the same time, Steve becomes acutely aware of all the hair covering his own body. There’s a sprinkling of hair across his chest, a dark trail leading from his navel into his pants, and he might as well have a thatched cottage at the base of his cock.

The thing is, Steve isn’t so behind on the twenty-first century that he isn’t aware of body hair removal. He trims the hair between his legs and considers it good manners, but the rest? Maybe he’s supposed to do something about it (he wishes he’d asked Natasha about it, back when he first came out of the ice and she was patient with his numerous questions; these days, he’d be liable to get teased mercilessly).

“Steve?” Bucky’s gaze is questioning.

“Right. We need to go.” Steve gets to his feet and goes to the drawer to select his own clothes.

He dresses quickly, feeling strangely self-conscious around the man he’s been naked around more times than he could count.

***

After they get back from the tower, Steve grabs his laptop and closets himself in the study for the afternoon. Bucky’s eyes are a little disappointed, but he shrugs and tells Steve he’s going for a walk.

During his internet research, Steve discovers hairy isn’t always considered a good thing. In fact, there are a lot of guys online who look exactly like Bucky: smooth and without a speck of hair on them from the neck down.

But at heart, Steve is a soldier: he can strategize and plan and scheme with the best of them. He’ll come up with a solution if it’s the last thing he does.

Scrolling through websites, he finds a wealth of information. Waxing gets ruled out quickly — just reading the phrase ‘back, sack and crack’ sends a shiver up Steve’s spine — and he doesn’t much like the sound of all these bizarre hair removal systems involving electricity.

Shaving, then. He watches a few YouTube videos on the best method, going against the grain and the right stance to use. Arming himself with all the necessary equipment, he heads for the shower to carry out his mission. His legs and underarms and chest aren’t too difficult, but when Steve gets south of the waist he starts having second thoughts. The safety razor seems worryingly sharp. Taking a deep breath, he rubs more foamy shave gel into his skin and goes for it.

***

Halfway through, Bucky bangs on the bathroom door. “Steve, get out of there! I need to take a leak and you’ve been in there for a fucking hour.”

“Just a sec,” Steve calls, one leg up on the edge of the bathtub, carefully drawing a razor across his balls while he holds the skin taut against his thigh with his other hand.

There’s another rap on the door. “I swear, if you’re jerking off in there, you’d better finish quick.”

Steve swears under his breath; concentrating on the task isn’t exactly easy with Bucky hollering on the other side of the door. Well, his perfect hairless boyfriend can damn well wait while he finishes shaving.

He gets the job done and cleans himself off carefully, trying not to leave too much hair in the drain.

When Steve exits, towel around his hips, Bucky shoulders right past him and slams the door, muttering "Oh, thank God" on the way.

Smiling to himself, Steve carries on into the bedroom and throws his towel on the bed. A minute or two later, he hears the click of the door that means Bucky is coming out, the sound of his socked feet on the wooden floor.

With a deep breath, Steve turns around.

There's a wheezing sound. He isn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t for Bucky to _laugh._ Bucky is laughing so hard there are tears in his eyes, and Steve's cheeks are burning.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Bucky says eventually, but he’s clenching his jaw, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

Steve frowns. “It really looks that bad?”

“No,” Bucky says emphatically, “just, what the fuck are you doing? Why did you feel like you needed to do that?”

If Steve’s face was pink before, now it must be sizzling, pillar-box red. He gestures to Bucky. “Well, you. You look like this, and then there’s me. I feel like I might as well be Tarzan.”

Bucky groans, his hands coming up to press at his forehead. “That’s what this is about? Because I’m a freakshow who can’t grow any body hair.”

Steve does the only thing he can. He goes to Bucky and yanks his sweatpants down, noting with amusement he’s naked beneath them. And Bucky seems to have figured out his intentions, because he’s raising his arms to let Steve pull his shirt off. He leaves his Captain America socks until last, taking his time over removing them, and Steve gets the feeling he's being teased a little.

When Bucky’s fully nude, Steve gets his still-damp hands on his waist and steers them both towards the mirror with Bucky's back to him.

Steve looks at the roundness of Bucky’s pectorals, his defined stomach muscles, the smooth curve of his hips. Pale and beautiful and bare, right down to the pink scars around the shoulder joint where metal meets skin. He isn’t the least bit surprised to feel his cock beginning to stiffen against his thigh.

Bucky is unsmiling, but he lets Steve give him the once-over with his eyes. Steve stretches up to stroke fingers over the scars around the metal joint, and Bucky shudders, starting to get hard as well.

“See?” Steve breathes. “Fucking gorgeous.” He steps out from behind Bucky. “And then there’s me.”

Steve’s gaze is unflinching; he isn’t looking at Bucky. He stares at himself: a red-and-white speckled chest from razor burn, and strangely bare arms and legs. The cut on his knee from when he’d accidentally applied the razor with heavy force. And then, lower. He hasn’t done a great job; the skin around his groin is red and there are stubbly patches and stray hairs where he missed a bit. It’s possibly the most unattractive thing he’s ever seen (and it’s not as if half-flaccid dicks are a work of art to start with).

Humiliated, Steve turns away.

Next to him, he hears Bucky sigh, and then he’s moving in, taking Steve’s chin in his metal palm and tipping it upwards.

“Hey,” Bucky says quietly. “You don’t have to hide from me. I’m sorry I laughed. It was just sudden.”

Steve forces his eyes to open. Bucky’s eyes are clear and accepting; he's serious about this.

“You’re the one with the perfect hairless body and the dick straight out of gay porn,” Steve protests. “I’m just saying, it can make a guy a little self-conscious.”

“Watched a lot of that, did you?” Bucky’s face screws up, like he’s trying not to laugh. "So that's it. You looked at a bunch of twinks on the internet and decided that everyone has to look like that."

Steve goes red again; there's no point explaining it was research. “You’re trying to change the subject,” he insists.

Bucky stares at him for a moment, then says, “You’re about the only person in the world who’d have a crisis over the fact I look like a naked mole-rat.” He sighs, shaking his head, and Steve almost wants to laugh. “You think I _like_ being like this? I get cold easily, for one.”

Their bedroom is cool, and Steve can see Bucky’s point; free of hair, his legs and arms are prickling a little from the chill.

Bucky is looking at him, eyes narrowed, considering. Steve doesn’t have time to react before Bucky shoves him back onto the bed with a force that winds him.

He climbs on top of Steve, knees bracketing his sides, and pins his arms above his head. “Now you listen here, you big dummy.”

Steve listens, but he can’t help the way his cock twitches at Bucky’s heated skin on his. If he was cold half a second ago, now he feels like he’s burning with a fever only Bucky can break.

“Never mind me being fucking gorgeous, Steve — it’s you," Bucky says on an exhale. "I liked the way you looked back when a stiff breeze woulda blown you over, and I liked you after, too. And I liked the way you looked before you took to hedge-trimming yourself, you fucking idiot.”

Steve has the absurd urge to laugh; he doesn’t.

Bucky dips his head to lay a bite on Steve’s chest, and continues: “I like it when you’ve been for a run and you let me go down on you before you’ve showered. When I get to press my nose into those soft curls above your dick. You smell like earth, like you. Nothin’ gets me harder.” Bucky lets go of Steve’s arms, follows his words with a wet press of his mouth to Steve’s hipbone.

“Jesus, Bucky,” Steve says, his hips canting up, wanting more. He’s finding it hard to breathe. He could be sixteen again, in the throes of asthma, except this feels a hell of a lot better.

“I like the way the hair gets softer, here.” Bucky presses two cool metal fingers to the taut skin behind Steve’s balls, very deliberately.

Steve lets out a ragged breath — if he was hard before, now his dick might as well be made of granite. His newly bared skin seems ten times more sensitive than normal.

“And here.” Bucky runs the same fingers up the crease of Steve’s ass. Steve can’t help himself; he moans a little. “I like the sounds you make when I run my tongue up here, get my mouth all over you.”

Steve’s cock is leaking; he’s so hard he can’t see straight, and he’s scrabbling at the sheets with shaking hands, trying to find purchase.

Bucky takes pity on Steve and wraps warm fingers around his dick. He keeps talking as he strokes: “I like the way it feels when you fuck me, when you’re deep inside me and I can feel the hair at the base of your dick brushing my skin. Point is, I like you any way you are, you dumbass punk, and you didn’t have to do this for me.”

Steve's had enough of Bucky's teasing. The words fall from his lips, unbidden: “Okay, I’m a fucking idiot, I get it. Now can I have you?”

Bucky grins wickedly, voice low when he says, “One-track mind Rogers.”

With a smile, Steve wriggles out from beneath Bucky and grabs the lube they carelessly left on the bedside table last night. He squeezes some on Bucky's hand and then slicks up his own cock, feeling his stomach muscles tighten in anticipation.

Twisting at the waist, Bucky reaches down to sink a couple of fingers into himself. Steve surges up to kiss him, palming Bucky’s cock at the same time; his heart might as well be doing somersaults in his chest, it's beating so fast.

He always wants Bucky, _always_ ; that’s something that never changes.

Steve lies back and Bucky shifts forwards, leaning over him, all smooth skin and heated intent in his eyes. He rests his hands on Steve’s shoulders, and then he’s easing himself slowly onto his dick.

 _God_ , Bucky feels slick and tight; Steve isn’t entirely sure he won’t go off straight away.

“Oh fuck, Steve. Fuck,” Bucky rasps when Steve bottoms out inside him. His mouth is open, the corded muscles of his neck standing out, his bare chest already shiny with sweat.

“C’mon,” Steve encourages. He gets two hands on Bucky’s ass and digs in his fingernails, trying not to beg, but a trapped whine makes its way out of his throat anyway.

Bucky laughs softly, leaning in to kiss Steve. Then he starts to move and Steve thinks maybe Bucky intends to kill him like this; it would certainly be a hell of a way to go.

He allows Bucky to set the pace, lets him shift and grind his body on top of him as the mattress creaks. Heat is sparking up the length of Steve’s spine, tightening in the pit of his stomach with every thrust; he can't help but arch up into Bucky's warmth with every second that passes.

“That’s it, come for me,” Bucky murmurs against his lips, the angle awkward but his words sure. And Steve does, with a deep moan, grasping at Bucky’s ass like it’s a lifeline as he spills inside him. When the white fades from behind his eyes, he sees Bucky with the metal hand on his own dick, working it frantically over the length as he bears down on Steve.

Steve watches him: Bucky's lips are red and swollen, eyes taut from pleasure as he touches himself. “You’re amazing like this, Buck,” he whispers, in a voice still wrecked from his own release. “Jesus, look at you. There you go. Come for me, just like this.”

Bucky makes a choked sound and collapses on top of Steve, groaning and spattering both their bellies with come.

After they’ve cleaned up and settled back into bed, Steve can’t stop himself from asking, “Seriously, does it look awful?”

Lifting his head, Bucky rubs a hand over the itchy razor bumps on Steve's chest. “No,” he replies. “You know I’ll have you however you are. But I want you to know I like you just the way you are.” Bucky’s got a funny smile on his face. “Tarzan or not.”

Steve shoves at Bucky’s bicep. “Does that make you Jane?”

There’s a raised eyebrow from Bucky, then he says, “I don’t have any objections to being swept off my feet and ravished. Just so you know.”

"Duly noted," Steve says fondly. "And just so you know, I like  _you_ any way you are, too. You could dye your hair orange and get a full-body Iron Man tattoo, and I'd still feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world."

Bucky gives him a quick kiss, and Steve feels him smile against his lips. When they break apart, Bucky's eyes drop to Steve’s softened cock, and he’s smirking a little. “You really want to do this whole hair-free thing, let me help you next time.”

Steve grins; the idea of Bucky soaping him up with a razor in the shower is actually kind of appealing. “Maybe I’ll let it grow out first.”

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe Steve will go and get IPL, or just embrace his hairy side. He has no idea the itching he's in for when it grows back, poor kid.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Steve Rogers and the Great Body Hair Crisis of 2015 | written by glitteratiglue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7963696) by [Tipsy_Kitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty/pseuds/Tipsy_Kitty)




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